


Cigarettes and Tea

by erdbeergirl22



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Catholic School, F/M, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:36:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26966815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erdbeergirl22/pseuds/erdbeergirl22
Summary: The fic takes place in 2045, roughly a quarter of a century after the event of series 2. It basically explores what the Priest's life has been like since after he left Fleabag at the bus stop. Hope you enjoy!!!
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	1. At the Priest's Door

The year is 2045 . The Priest is 66 years old, and has found himself running the campus ministry of a Catholic high school in Westchester County, New York, of all places. It is around ten in the morning and he is tired and annoyed as he sits at his desk with a gross mug of coffee, grading papers for his senior theology class. He has grown a little cantankerous with age, as his face has gained more wrinkles, his hair, turned grey and his midsection increased in size. Still, he isn’t unattractive and has maintained some of the charm he had as a “young” man of forty.  
The school is quite nice, architecturally speaking. It’s an old repurposed Westchester mansion that sits at the base of a hill. It’s all lush green grass and ornate antique windows. The Priest’s office is lovely overlooking the sport’s field. It was once a charming little sitting room on the ground floor with lovely windows all around to let as much light in as possible. Now it is in disarray with papers all around. Seemingly, nothing is in place. He never did know how to keep tidy. And the windows that let all that light in are well, more of a nuisance to him as they let the cold into his lovely office. The furnace always seems to be broken. He’s the Priest, for chrissake, can’t the administration make an effort to not let him freeze? He huddles in his sweater trying to keep warm and takes another sip of coffee when he nose catches the damning smell of tobacco. He is immediately deeply annoyed. He laughs darkly. How stupid are these kids? To smoke right by the priest’s office… Do they want to be suspended. He gets up, revving himself up, ready to start screaming, wrath of God, fire and damnation that sort of thing. It is with a force that he slams open the outdoor exit of his office. His eyes search about for the delinquents, only to find a young woman, not a student, huddled in a multiple layers, her arms crossed together, defending herself against this January chill. He immediately softens when he sees her, confused.   
“I’m sorry, Father, I didn’t…” she says.   
It’s Mrs. Adams, a new English teacher. She teaches a few sections of regular sophomore English. She’s the young bride of Nicholas Adams, an English and History teacher in his late thirties. The Priest has never liked him. He’s sort of this intellectual asshole, with a beard who wears sweaters and sweater vests and is very religious. So religious that even Priest thinks it’s a bit much. If Mr. Adams would prefer Latin Mass then he’d bloody well go take his business elsewhere. Anyway, he does things like have his students put their desks in a big circle for discussions. He is so idolized by many of the students, especially the boys for being such a free thinker and philosopher or something, for asking the tough questions. Meanwhile, his ideas are often so very middle of the road, almost to an extent that he could be called a reactionary centrist. He had been a young republican in college and was now one of these soft spoken, intellectual and thoughtful American conservatives who is just trying to see it “from all sides”. It’s so obvious and derivative and so obnoxious, most of all because of his widespread adoration. How he gets off on being idolized by these feeble young minds, how he really loves stroking his ego by impressing a bunch of 17 year olds. so eager to have their privileged little meritocratic ideas about the world confirmed. But anyway, this is his young wife, at least ten years younger than him, smoking a cigarette by herself right next to the outdoor entrance of the Priest’s office.   
“I’d forgotten that this is where your office was. I’m so sorry. I’ll be going.”  
She hesitates.   
“But please just don’t.”  
“You know, Mrs. Adams, this is a a tobacco free campus”, the Priest tells her sternly.  
“I’m well aware father, and I’m very sorry. I promise it wont-“  
“but, I promise not to tell….. if you’ll let me have one, that is”  
He smirks. She registers that she’s in the clear. She laughs.  
“But ofcourse father” she says, offering him the open carton. He pulls one out and sticks it in his mouth. He steps forward into her personal space, to light his cigarette with hers. She jumps, a little jittery and nervous, and then finally leans toward him. They have this intimate moment where their heads are almost touching. She is a little scandalized by him. Her whole demeanor is nervous and scared. She looks at him, rather fearfully. He takes a drag of his cigarette and looks at her, trying to gauge the best way to calm her down. Because, the Priest does like her, Mrs. Adams.   
He’d met her in the teacher’s lounge in September at a little get together. Brother Anthony had introduced them, an obnoxious little gossip with the thickest Long Island accent/Queens you’ve ever heard. He was originally from Middlevillage and had spent much of his career at a high school on Long Island. “Fawtha!” He’d yelled from across the room holding a mortified Mrs. Adams by the arm. “She’s from across the pond too, she is!” he’d said in the worst Dick van Dyke chimney sweep accent.  
The Priest had a brief conversation with her where he discovered she was English and had only graduated from university a few years prior. It was with a sinking feeling that he learned that she had quit her first teaching job to marry Nicholas Adams and move to America, only to immediately be given a position at the very same school where her husband was employed.   
“Yes, and now you work here too, what a coincidence” he’d said as she told him her story.   
The young woman laughed taken aback, but she rose to the occasion.  
“Yes, this whole place seems to be rather… incestuous in that way. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who isn’t an alumni…. My husband included”. She replied downing her drink in one go. The Priest laughed, now he was taken aback. He’d dismissed her and now she was standing her ground, not letting herself be pinned down like that.   
Mr. and Mrs. Adams had met that very summer in Rome and married within a month a meeting. Plenty of people raised their eyebrows at this and there were rumors that she must be pregnant, but no child ever did materialize.   
So here she is again, in this little nook, this little hideaway space outside in the cold by his office. He has her all to himself.   
“Listen”, he says taking one last drag of his cigarette and then stomping it out onto the cold frozen floor. Rubbing his hands together he proposes “Why don’t we have some tea?” He points with his thumb behind him towards his office.  
She hesitates, “oh father it’s really..”  
He interrupts her, “c’mon” he says scrunching and doing that little nudging, head bobbing thing that he does. “c’mon, you know you want to”.   
She gives in and he serves her tea in his office. She sits in a little plushy chair that he has situated near his desk. When he comes in with the tea on a tray and when he places it on his desk he spills quite a bit, but doesn’t notice. She thanks him politely. She sits in the chair, her spine like a pole. She is so proper and seemingly would rather die than do anything impolite or offensive. She takes delicate sips of the tea and sits there looking at him, with this agreeable expression plastered on her face. But still, you can tell, somehow she’s out of sorts.   
“So, uh, you aren’t at all what I expected”.  
“Oh?” she replies, confused with a touch of sarcasm.  
“No!” he laughs. “I’m just, I mean you? Miss perfect? Miss by the book? Caught smoking on campus like a rebellious teenager?”  
He says these words with a jokey over the top demeanor. She laughs nervously.  
“Well, Father, we all have our vices…”  
“Maybe I do, maybe” he makes a round about hand gesture signaling “everyone”  
“but you? You?”   
He goes on. “My students tell, what a hard ass you are. Like the toughest grader, to an unreasonable extent.”  
She cuts in, cheekily “Since when is it a crime to have high standards?”   
He laughs, shaking his head.  
“I’m just saying…. That, you’re a dark horse… that’s what you are.”  
She smiles and answers him playfully.  
“Well, I’ve decided to take that as a compliment… if its all the same to you”  
The Priest chuckles and says with a dainty over polite affect “please, please do.”

The little good humored exchange dies down. The Priest’s demeanor changes as he takes sip of tea. He places his cup down and looks away from her as he says, “So you’re often in my prayers..”  
“Oh?” She’s surprised. They don’t know each other very well after all.   
He nods seriously, thoughtfully and explains “I know how crazy, how hard it is to be dropped suddenly into a whole new environment. I’ve been there myself many, many times”.   
She raises an eyebrow as if she’s so disturbed, but she’s joking of course. “Really Father? Oh God, how many times have there been? ”  
He laughs his hand on his chest “No, that’s not… what I mean is… Oh fuck me. I’ve really put my foot in it now haven’t I?”  
She laughs and shakes her head putting him at ease.  
Finally he feels okay to go on with what he was saying. “How are you managing? In this new, foreign place I mean.”.  
“Oh fine… I mean… well, its very lonely. But, I’m here because I love my husband”.  
The Priest abruptly interjects “ofcourse”.  
“And” Mrs. Adams continues matter of factly. “if this is where he wants to be, then I want to be here with him.” She laughs at herself “and it isn’t as if I was leaving so much behind anyway. I was glad to go, I was glad to have somewhere new, somewhere new where I had to be.”  
She fiddles with the cross around her neck before continuing. “Its all very different, it’s all very. I don’t know. I don’t know. Nick took me to Manhattan. I mean, that was just… wild. You know? To finally see it I mean… Disappointing… actually”  
He smiles and nods.  
“Oh, I’ve so been there.” He laughs adding,  
“Did you manage to see the Cathedral?”  
She nods enthusiastically. He means St. Patrick’s of course.   
He tilts his head cautiously, squinting “its a bit, well,”  
She laughs as he continues, emboldened by her.   
“Its a bit, well, meh?”  
“Father!” she exclaims, her tone faux scandalized.  
“Well it is!” he insists laughing.   
She nods, conceding “okay Father, maybe, maybe you are right but, we’ll just keep that between us”.  
The Priest laughs “no we won’t tell Nick…”  
Mrs. Adams laughs awkwardly. The wind has been taken out of the sails of this conversation. The Priest grows serious again. When he starts up again, its a more solemn tone.  
“And.., I pray for you, well because of your father.”  
Mrs. Adams nods sadly. Her father died that November. It was very sudden, a heart attack. She flew home for the funeral. Mr. Adams did not go with her. She departed on a Wednesday and was back bright and early Monday morning as if nothing happened, stern and proper as ever administering a pop quiz on the assigned reading.  
“You know, I never said how sorry I was…”  
Mrs. Adam’s interrupts “No, its really fine Father… it, it wasn’t your problem”  
After a brief pause he continues.   
“And your mother, how is she?”  
“Fine” she answers with some judgment. “Fine, weirdly… But, she always seems to land on her feet, so”.   
The Priest nods but doesn’t question her further. He proceeds with what he wanted to say. What he always says in the sort of situation. “The funeral liturgy says that life is changed and not ended, if that’s of some help….”  
She laughs.   
“What?” The Priest asks, smiling and a little confused.  
“no father, I mean, thank you. Thank you. I have thought of that but, well I can’t help but just think well…”  
He furrows his brows playfully, “what?”  
“Well” she answers shyly.   
“C’mon just say it! You know you want to” They laugh together.  
“I just can’t help but think, no shit! I mean yes, obviously the life has changed… in so far as, well, its changed because it’s ended, right?  
The Priest thinks this over.  
“I mean” she clarifies. “Ending and changing, these aren’t opposites. Something can end and change at the same time? Like one doesn’t defeat the other, as that bit of the liturgy implies.”  
There’s a very brief silence and Mrs. Adams breaks it laughing, “My father changed in that he ended is what I’m getting at”  
The Priest laughs. Playfully he tells her “fuck you for ruining my go to bit to say to mourners!”.  
Mrs. Adams laughs “I’m sorry father if I…”  
He interrupts and says sarcastically but with levity, “What am I going to tell them now? Thanks…. really.”  
He shakes his head and takes another sip of his tea.   
Mrs. Adams shrugs, “sorry!”  
They laugh as the bell rings. With disappointment Mrs. Adam’s tells him “I actually have a class now”.  
“Oh don’t let me keep you”.   
She stands up and he takes in her slim and elegant figure. The knit dress she’s wearing is quite short. On her crazy long delicate legs she wears black tights.   
“Let me show you out” he says getting up quickly.   
“It was so nice talking to you Father” she says as he opens the door. Not the door outside, the one that leads to the interior of the school, if that wasn’t obvious. He touches her softly on the arm as if to keep her from leaving. “Likewise.” He replies nodding with enthusiasm. “You can come here whenever you want”. She smiles. With some insecurity he adds “if it helps you, I mean. That’s what I’m here for you know, that’s my whole job”.  
“Sounds like you’d like me to come” she says laughing. “Yeah, I guess it does Mrs. Adams” he nods. She bites her lip. “You know, why don’t you just call me Sarah? Is that all right?”  
The Priest is flattered. “Sure yeah. That’d great” He smiles.  
“Then, I hope to see you tomorrow Sarah”.   
She does a playful little salut and leaves.

And so like clockwork she’s there most days in her free period, 10 a.m., he smells the tobacco and he knows, it’s her. He smirks and jumps up, excitedly making a b line for the door and then, playing it cool, he marches to her, hands on his hips in faux reproach. She’s out there leaning on the brick exterior walls of the building looking exquisite. She laughs when she see’s him. “My goodness Mrs. Adams?” She laughs again and with absolutely no hesitation what so ever offers him her open carton. He shakes his head “Oh, I… I really shouldn’t”.  
“Oh? All the sudden?” She says disappointed. “Well it’s all the same to me”.  
He laughs and gives in. He puts the cigarette into his mouth and immediately leans into her, lighting his cigarette on hers. She smiles and laughs softly through the tobacco, not hesitating, not afraid of the closeness, enjoying it rather. He leans back on the wall as she had, taking a drag of his cigarette. He exhales, closes his eyes, as he enjoys it immensely before finally telling her “You know that you’re a terrible influence on me?”  
She laughs “if that’s true Father, then would you prefer I go away?”  
“Fuck no! You dark horse, you.”  
They laugh. The Priest has this sense when he with her, of total ease. It’s so much fun just to be around her, stealing away and having a cigarette like teenagers. He isn’t this old cantankerous Priest anymore, handing out detentions for uniform infractions. He’s fun, he’s his old self, who he wants to be.   
“No,” he continues “Stay, please. You’re good for me.”   
She smiles, confused.  
He clarifies, “you sort of, remind me of somebody, of old times, I guess.”  
“Well, you’re welcome… I think?”   
There’s another pause,  
“So you’re just a horribly, unrelentingly strict by the book teacher”  
She takes another drag laughing waiting for where this is going.  
“But underneath it all, you’re actually a, a cool teacher? But, you just can’t have the kids knowing and taking advantage?”  
“No” she says playfully. “No, I’m really just a big reader with no friends. I’m very much how I present I think… how the kids see me.”  
He raises a brow, “are you sure about that?”  
She takes another drag and avoids the question “are you a cool Priest then?”  
“No, I’m a pretty normal Priest.”  
She grins “Oh really, what makes you a normal Priest?”  
He averts his eyes from her gaze and looks out across the soccer field. She chuckles. They finish smoking and go inside.   
He makes her tea and she sits in the chair as proper as ever but now with a more jovial and excited glow to her. She’s just happy to be there. Her back is still so so straight though, like a pole. She eyes him excitedly, like she just can’t fucking wait for him to get over here with that tray.   
“So”, he says once he’s sat down and they’ve settled.  
“I actually, there’s something I want to give you”.  
She raises her eyebrows happy and surprised, she fiddles with the cross around her neck.  
“I know you’re probably quite familiar but,”  
He pulls out a Bible chock full of post its.  
“I just found a few passages I thought you might, like, to revisit maybe”.  
She receives the book beaming.  
“Thank you Father, this is so, this is really lovely”.   
There’s a silence before she says,  
“I’m actually quite a new convert so this will be, this is so nice”  
“Really?” He says surprised, “did you convert for your marriage or?”She laughs “no, not at all no. I came to the Faith during University.”  
“My upbringing was totally, just irreligious. Just devoid of any sort of spirituality.”  
“Sounds bleak” the Priest says.  
“It was yeah”.   
“But you know” he starts. “I have so much respect for converts. They often take it much more seriously than those of us” he points to himself “born into the church”.  
She laughs “yeah I get that sort of thing a lot”.  
He smiles and concedes.   
After a pause she points to a notebook he has open on his desk.  
“Whats this?”  
“Oh thats, I’m just designing this flyer for the bake sale and reusing…”  
She cuts him off “isn’t that more something for the kids to do?”  
He laughs “I suppose so, yeah”.  
“But its just as well” he adds.  
“Well, go on” she nudges him to read what he’s written.  
“Oh no, I couldn’t” he protests, slightly vulnerable.  
“Come on Father”  
“Its recycled anyway, its not even…”  
She makes these persistent eyes at him and he laughs and gives in.  
“Okay well, “These are the desserts you’ll want to spend forty days and forty nights in”.  
“What?” She laughs. “Father, that’s so stupid, that’s so silly? God, I fucking love that.”  
He smiles but he looks slightly wounded.  
“You” she clarifies. “I fucking love you Father, I really do. You have this lightness…. And its so infectious Father. That’s why I so enjoy coming here. You’ve been a godsend. I don’t know how I’d manage… It’s so nice to finally have a friend. I’m by myself here, mostly.” She becomes a bit shy and says “I just want to thank you.”   
He smiles tightly and nods but there is some distance.  
“In the final analysis, that’s all any of us can really hope for. A good friend.”


	2. House Party!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Priest goes to Sarah and Nick's house warming party.

The Priest stands at the door of the Nick and Sarah Adams’ house holding a bottle of wine. He’s nervous and 15 minutes late. He had made it a point to be 15 minutes late. The door opens and much to his chagrin it is not Sarah’s face that greats him but Nick’s. He’s all ready a little sauced. “Woah, Father thanks” he says taking the bottle from the Priest right away, without waiting for the normal pleasantries that usually go along with gift giving. He just grabs it. The Priest is a little shocked but he smiles through tight lips. “A little house warming present”. Nick laughs again like he can’t believe it. “Can’t believe you came! And bearing gifts.” The Priest raises his eyebrows and gestures behind him “well if the invitation was only a curtesy, I’ll be going…” Nick laughs “come on in Father”. The Priest concedes and smiles, allowing Nick to usher him in. The house is pretty packed and there are many people from the school present. Nick thanks him again for the wine and quickly leaves him for the kitchen. The Priest is alone there, in the dark of the foyer looking out at all these people. No one’s noticed him yet. He can’t find her, Sarah, as his eyes dart about the living room. Finally he makes his way out into the crowd, pouring himself a drink and allowing himself to be entangled in some ridiculous conversation as he would esteem it. Most things seemed ridiculous and stupid and pointless before he met her. He couldn’t give anything and hadn’t given anything the time of day, before she came along. His life has meaning, has fun, has purpose again.   
He is drowning in this crowd when finally he sees her. She’s up on the landing of her staircase having a conversation with two other women. They are slowly descending the stairs as they talk, Sarah leans against the wall for a bit before they proceed. He is totally transfixed by her, feels impatient to get her attention. He catches her in profile as she leans against the wall. Her figure so elegant and long, he admires her prominent nose and big eyes. She’s wearing a dark blue dress that stops around her knees and her long dark hair that she normally wears down or in braids is in a tomboyish updo. She looks down at the living room absentmindedly, as she leans there. And they share this moment, making eye contact as her face lights up and she smiles. “If you’ll excuse me” he says in his soft spoken polite voice to these other people, who he couldn’t care less about, who he couldn’t imagine spending another second with if his life depended on it now that he’s found. They meet at the foot of the staircase. “Good evening” she says sweetly and shyly through her smile and then adding, in her lilting voice “father”. He beams. “Some party” he says gesturing around at the crowd with his glass. She nods sort of solemnly, as if to say yikes I know. She introduces him to the women beside her. “I was just giving Kat and Emily a tour of the house”. These are both math teachers at the school. Emily smiles at him respectfully but Kat gives him sort of a shifty eyed look. She whispers something to Sarah who exhales in a fluttery and nervous chuckle before Kat and Emily exit. Sarah keeps her eyes on them as they go as if she’s too shy to look back at the Priest. The Priest interjects sort of, getting her to come back to him “that sounds great, actually”. She looks at him confused, a slight and giddy smile forming at the side of her mouth as her head tilts to one side. “A tour”. “Oh! I’d love to show you father” he waits for the but actually bit of the sentence, but it doesn’t come. She starts almost immediately. “So you’ve all ready seen the living room”. “Yes! Its very-” He gestures vaguely out around him but can’t think of what to say. Sarah giggles. “Well,” he goes on deflating, “so its, its a living room.. and I can’t really see much of it for all the guests!”. She laughs “yes we haven’t really done much at all with it. I do like the coffee table though”. He nods seriously like he’s taking everything into consideration and then says “yeah, its, that’s a solid coffee table!”. She laughs. “And we have the kitchen” she says taking him by the wrist. He’s taken aback by this intimate gesture, surprised and delighted to feel her fingers clasped around his wrist. It feels so intimate to him and he feels a giddiness as she pulls him around the corner, through the foyer into her small sliver of a kitchen. It is with a sinking feeling that he realizes that this gesture, so intimate and sacred to him, must mean very little to her.  
Sarah gestures around her kitchen. “Nick thinks we should gut the whole thing, but I don’t know I sort of like it, don’t you?” He nods emphatically, still getting over the rush of her touch “yeah it has a sort of old farmhouse feel to it”. She nods, evidently actually giving some more thought to the kitchen. She clarifies “I cleaned everything very thoroughly when we moved in and, everything’s working fine. But we did replace the fridge”. The Priest nods. She goes on “maybe we’ll just give the cabinets a going over, paint” she yawns. The Priest widens his eyes and gestures to the countertops “now that’s a lot of wine”. Sarah chuckles and rolls her eyes at all the wine they’ve been given. “Its all anyone thinks to bring…” He shrugs sort of embarrassed and points to himself “myself included”. “Oh really? Which one is yours?” He points to the one at the end. She puts her hand on her chest in a dramatic and over exaggerated way “oh that’s my favorite!”. They laugh. He takes a sip of his drink. He’s very close to her, as the kitchen is so tiny. There isn’t much space between them at all and he relishes in this closeness. “Do you like wine at all?” She shakes her head “no, not really”. “Lot of alcoholics in your family I take it?” He asks sarcastically. She laughs. “No it’s nothing like that…” He waits for her to continue. “I just don’t like it.” She shakes her head. “I just don’t like feeling, feeling ill-“ He counters “well it usually feels pretty good before-“ “But I don’t like that either. I’d just prefer to be… alert I suppose?” The Priest nods and confides “That’s funny” he comes closer to her and lowers his voice like he’s letting her in on some big secret, “because that’s exactly what I do like about it” he laughs shrugging as he finishes his drink. Sarah nods but is a little concerned for him. “Nick likes wine though” she adds after a bit of an awkward silence. The Priest smiles thinking of something to say. “So, it’s not a total loss then” is what he comes up with. Sarah smiles a small smile and nods. “I think it makes him feel sophisticated” she confides, giggling.   
Their relationship is that of new friends. Of kindred spirits who are aware of the fact that they are kindred spirits and are so grateful and excited to have finally found one another. But there is also this apprehension in their interactions, a nervousness arising from the fact that each of them knows they have a good thing and neither of them wants to spoil it. They are strangers on the brink of being close, life long friends.   
Sarah looks the Priest up and down and collects the courage to say something that she’s been wanting to tell him. “You know Father, I didn’t say anything before..” He makes this excited faux apprehensive face. “What?” he says in a funny over the top cautious voice, like a jokey am I in trouble sort of vibe. She laughs “its nothing bad I just…” He raises his brows. She continues, her smile renewed and self conscious “I just think I recognize you from somewhere, but I can’t for the life of me figure out from where!”. The Priest squints cheerfully trying to figure out if he’s seen her before, she seems familiar to him too, in some twisted sort of wat. “I don’t know where we would have met…”  
Sarah interjects “you haven’t spent much time in London?”  
He smiles in a resigned way and answers sighing “No, not really. And you’ve never been to America before now?”   
“No never” she answers. “When did you move here?”  
The Priest lets out and exasperated and weary sigh. “Long… before your time!, that much I can tell you.” Sarah laughs and puts things into perspective “Father, I’m almost thirty…”  
“Yeah well that’s about how long I’ve been here! I moved here in the late twenties…early thirties maybe.” He does the math and then laughs to himself, marveling at how much time has passed. “Fuck me” he exclaims amazed. Sarah laughs a jittery nervous laugh. He continues, “I’ve been here for over twenty fucking years..”  
“And you were in Ireland before” she states as if that’s so obvious.  
The Priest corrects her, “no actually I had a brief stint in London!”  
“Oh so you did spend some time there”  
He smiles and shakes his head, waving her away. “Well… no I wouldn’t say that” he explains “it was brief, too brief, unfortunately”. “But you seem familiar too, that’s one of the first things that occurred to me when we met! I just don’t know and can’t imagine where we would have met. ” he adds.  
Sarah smiles. “Hmm” she says racking her brain on where she recognizes him from. She smiles. “And you didn’t perchance have a film career of any kind before you became a priest?”  
He laughs. “No, no, I had a great many lives before the priesthood but that was not one of them.”  
“So maybe it was in a previous life or something” Sarah says. The Priest smiles, shrugging.

The dining room is next room on the tour. The kitchen and dining room are really one big room, the only thing separating them being the kitchen cabinets. But anyway, she just gestures to the dining room which is also packed with guests and she mentions that the garden isn’t very big but she doesn’t both showing it to him as its night. They don’t talk much and there is some awkwardness as she shows him the upstairs. It is dead quiet up there but the Priest senses a sort of peace wash over him as he escapes the noisy crowd below. She shows him every room, there aren’t very many. Their tour ends in the bedroom.   
Sarah flicks on the light and sits herself down on her bed with a bounce. She gestures around her in a resigned way telling him “and that’s the last of it”. He smiles politely, a little nervous to be up here for some reason. “Its a nice house” he offers. “Yeah, I think we could be happy here…” The Priest is about to say something but she starts up again. “It does scare me though, to think of how long I could be here”. The Priest raises his eyebrows. “You have some commitment issues then?” She shakes her head smiling “Oh I don’t know… maybe that’s what it is. I guess I just felt like I was running out of time you know? And now I have this fucking house” she laughs into her hands. There is something hysterical about it, her laugh. The Priest is a little uncomfortable. “This fucking house! And there’s this vast expanse of time ahead of me and I’m just worried that it’s going to be misery..” The Priest smiles understanding. “if I may” he says. She nods. “I’ve been there and… its really, it won’t be so bad. I mean, if anything it won’t be as miserable as you can imagine and it won’t be as joyful either”. She nods cautiously considering what he’s saying. “I mean, most of life” he shrugs, squinting “its just the day to day, you know? Just-“ he throws his hands up into the air “nothing”. Sarah furrows her brows in a funny sort of that doesn’t sound right way. He laughs. “No seriously!” He says. “You’ll be fine, is what I mean”. Sarah smiles sadly and exhales. “Well, I sure hope so…”  
The Priest furrows his brow, trying to continue the conversation. “So you two have an awful lot of friends?” Sarah laughs. The Priest goes on “There’s so many people here! I can’t imagine what the wedding was like”.   
“Most of these people, they’re people Nick knows, god knows how!! He’s very sociable I guess… And he has lots of family and just things like that. As for our wedding” She starts to look a little sad. “I mean I didn’t have anyone… My aunt and uncle were here and my best friend. But my parents didn’t come”.   
The Priest is shocked. “What your own parents didn’t come?”   
Sarah shakes her head. “My grandparents didn’t either. But that’s mostly because grandad.. I mean he’s nearly a hundred years old and can’t really do a transatlantic flight.”  
The Priest chuckles amazed and Sarah nods like she’s worried about her grandad. Being that old is very treacherous!   
“I guess godmother could have flown over but she wasn’t too keen on leaving him…”  
“Godmother?” The Priest asks confused.  
“She’s my grandad’s second wife. She was godmother to my mother so, I don’t know that’s just what I’ve always called her.”  
The Priest nods, “okay weird, but I guess that makes sense. If the shoes fits.”  
Sarah nods and chuckles with some sarcasm “oh the shoe definitely fits..”   
The Priest laughs and makes a face like he’s confused but wants her to go on.  
Sarah elaborates. “She just sort of an, well, not evil but you know, a something- godmother. She’s just really difficult and always has been.” Sarah squints. “But anyway, my mother, they didn’t come over for my wedding… She talked about coming on the phone and always, I don’t know, was sort of covertly pressuring me I think, to not marry Nick”. Sarah says this like this is a horrible thing that she’s confessed about what a cruel horrid person her mother is. The Priest shrugs and says “well, you hadn’t known each other very long. I understand why your mother would be concerned.” Sarah doesn’t like this answer one bit, she bulldozes onward. “But it’s not about that.” She insists. “She doesn’t respect my faith, me being Catholic, me wanting to be a good wife.” She pauses and then goes on “she thinks all of that is a joke! She doesn’t take me or my faith seriously. She’s been waiting for me to get over this “phase” since I converted.” Sarah is immediately embarrassed by her little outburst. She shrinks “sorry father I’m..”  
The Priest swallows and shakes his head understandingly “oh its fine! Please, I understand”. Sarah sighs relieved but still a bit embarrassed. Theres a brief silence and the Priest smiles gently as he breaks it.“So I take it you and your mother aren’t very close?” Grateful, Sarah answers, “We used to be, I thought… but I wouldn’t say so no”.  
“Because of your faith?“  
“Maybe” she answers, squinting, facing the palm of her hand, pinching the skin above her nose.  
“Or maybe, I guess, well, she’s just a lot of fun mostly…” She laughs “Maybe that’s the trouble”.  
He raises his eyebrows perplexed.  
“And that’s a bad thing?”  
“Well, she’s only that. She’s fun. And not much else…”  
The Priest furrows his brow and starts to say something but she cuts him off.  
“She just doesn’t take anything seriously. And she’s so reckless. So horribly reckless. I guess, it was all well and good when I was a young child… We had lots of fun, but….”  
The Priest looks at her like he’s trying to understand, sort of worried for her.   
Sarah shakes her head. “I don’t know. I guess I can’t explain it. We’re just different. Or we became different. Different values…”   
The Priest nods understandingly. Then he starts up again.  
“You know, my mother, well, she’s dead” he says this with a sort of dark levity. Sarah sympathetically laughs like good god and then she says she’s sorry.  
“I mean she would be, you’re grandad’s age… but now that she’s gone I think, I just wish I had made an effort to understand her more maybe. She went through a lot, she was-, she was very repressed, I think. She repressed herself and I didn’t understand that, I wasn’t, I wasn’t as sympathetic or understanding as I should have been.”  
Sarah cuts him off laughing. “Well, my mother is anything but repressed”.  
The Priest continues on, ignoring this comment. “I just should have made an effort to understand her, and my father too, honestly. But I just cut off from a lot of my family, or allowed myself, allowed life to cut me off… Especially after I joined the priesthood. I just made no effort. And I think…And then the physical distance…, just don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater is all I mean. You may regret it. You could, anyway.”   
“But honestly Father,” she says with a weak smile “Its not that serious- I mean she’s in good health and all of that.” There’s a pause. “And, I am good daughter to her, I call her once a week. She’s usually the one who doesn’t have time for me! It’s not like I’m neglecting this aging old helpless lonely woman or anything. She’s fine.”  
The Priest counters this “But she just lost her husband didn’t she-”  
“Well, yes, but that’s”.   
The Priest waits. Sarah struggles. She can’t give her mother the credit somehow, something is blocking her. “I just don’t know. I guess you’re right…”He drops it. “I guess I should feel more sorry for her. But when I think about Jerry dying though… I just feel sorry for him. Dear Jerry.”  
They hear someone walking in the hall. Sarah gets up. “Nick? Is that you, darling”.  
Nick opens the door. “Oh!” he says surprised and shocked. “Hello Father…”. The Priest smiles and politely nods. “Sarah was just giving me the tour” he explains. Nick raises his eyebrows. “Oh? That’s interesting”. Sarah smiles annoyed. “Well I was about to give a toast and I just thought my wife, should be there.” Sarah makes a face like she’s confused and a bit hurt at how controlling he’s being. “Nick…” she starts. “Sarah” he answers, his voice slightly rising with passive aggression. The Priest is really uncomfortable. He’s about to excuse himself but he doesn’t want to leave Sarah alone with him. When the Priest doesn’t leave, Nick says, “you know what Father, I’d actually like to talk to my wife alone for a little while if it’s all the same to you”. The Priest looks to Sarah who nods that it’s all right. He leaves, softly shutting the door behind him. He debates leaving as he climbs down the stairs, but decides to wait a while, rejoining the party. At some point Nick and Sarah rejoin the party too and Nick gives that little speech. He does what people do, he clinks on his glass with a fork. Sarah looks to the Priest and they commiserate. They share this gaze together. It feels like they are breaking a fourth wall, some rule in the laws of physics, of space and time. Like they are on this own separate plain together that no one else has access to, all in one brief and knowing look, there is so much intimacy in this one look. And just when it gets to be too much and too exquisite, Sarah looks away. This relieves and disappoints the Priest tremendously. Once he’s gotten everyone’s attention, Nick stops clinking. He exhales and shrugs, he says, in a long and meandering voice with a sarcastic sort of affect, “this house” and looks around him, bemused. “This house. This house!” People laugh. He sits down taking a sip of his drink and turns to Sarah who is standing in the crowd. “My wife, my wife….” People do that obnoxious cheer/whoo thing. She turns red, mortified. He doesn’t notice or doesn’t care to notice. He says it again in his lilting voice “my wife” and gestures to her. She comes near and he does this thing where he sort of pulls her into his lap. Awkwardly she sits on him smiling around at everyone, still mortified, doing her best to keep it together, to play the flattered loving, beautiful young bride. So she’s just awkwardly sitting there on his lap the whole time as he waxes on about how glad and thankful he is for his house and his “beautiful wife” who he says he doesn’t deserve and blah blah how’d he get so lucky and so on and so on. The Priest is so annoyed and embarrassed that he forces himself to have a calm and neutral face, worried that his contempt could show. But by the end of this saccharine speech he notices that Sarah is beaming. And maybe he did know it before, or maybe he thought she was deluded or something. He doesn’t know what he thought exactly, but now he sees, as she gazes at Nick adoringly, as she smiles, genuinely touched by his words, not because they were so deep and artistic, but because they were his words. He sees for the first time how much she loves Nick. And his heart sinks, and he feels this deep disappointment and despair. Sarah and Nick kiss. Everyone cheers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry its been a while. if you liked it tell me and leave a comment!!! thats rly motivated me to keep going... again srry if its slow, the next chapters will be more action oriented!! enjoy this fleabag fic!!<3

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if its a bit slow!! I'm really obsessed with this show and am dying to know what happened to all the characters after the events of series 2 (like even Martin). Ugh. anyway, hope someone liked this!!! leave me a comment if you did!!


End file.
